


Love Me Like I'm Gone

by griners



Category: Football RPF, gerlonso - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griners/pseuds/griners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Highschool au; Xabi arrives at a new school, makes a friend, and the rest, as they say, is history. Good thing history was written in this page.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Like I'm Gone

**Author's Note:**

> My shot at a highschool au. Idk I actually like how this turned out.

Steven taps his pen against the paper, biting his lip in a characteristic focusing gesture as he tries to solve a specially hard equation their teacher gave them (or, Steven, because he’s pretty sure he’s the only one with 5 equations to solve as opposed to the rest of the class, with 4 each). He hears the door to the classroom swinging open and their teacher returns, followed by a student who is nothing as Steven would have expected.

“Class,” the teacher speaks up and the room goes quiet, all eyes set on the student who stands to Ms. Aaron’s right. “This is our new student I was telling you about, Xabi Alonso. I trust you’ll make him feel welcomed here.”

Steven looks around, sees Patrice and Anne drool a little and exchange a muffled giggle and thinks, shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

“You can go sit now, Xabi.” She says, and Xabi nods, walking forward before cutting off mid-stride next to Steven’s desk.

“It’s the only empty sit.” Xabi sounds like he’s apologizing for something he hasn’t even done and Steven laughs, waves it off and motions for Xabi to sit down beside him.

“Steven,” he introduces himself, and as Xabi shakes his hand, muttering a short, quiet, X _abi_ , Steven thinks, I like him.

\--

“Hey, Xabi, wait up!” Steven raises his voice, jogging to meet up with him. “Jesus, you in a rush or what?”

“Oh, sorry,” Xabi apologizes again, and looks down. He seems sort of lost here (even though he’s in the tenth grade- but still, it’s a new school, Steven gets it).

“So how many times do you get maths?” Steven asks, claiming his breath back as he slows his pace.

“Uh, I don’t know, let me check.” Xabi rummages around his pocket for a while before retrieving a crumpled little square of paper, unfolding it and swiping his eyes over it quickly. “Three times a week, yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Guess we’ll see each other three times a week then, eh?” Steven grins and punches his shoulder jokingly, and surprises himself with the easiness he already feels around Xabi.

“Yeah, I guess,” Xabi smiles, and doesn’t look like he’s totally displeased with the idea.

By the time Xabi gets to his house Steven and him are crying from laughing so hard and Xabi’s thinking making friends here wasn’t as difficult as he’d made it out to be. “This is it.”

Steven widens his eyes, whistles at the two-story (massive) building, glancing at Xabi sideways. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Xabi chuckles, and Steven sees an embarrassed blush creep its way onto his cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” Steven nods, smiling. “Tomorrow.”

Xabi smiles back and goes into his house, and Steven realizes he’s gonna have to hurry back home if he still wants to catch the beginning of the Liverpool game he’d planned to watch.

And so he goes, and runs, and inside the house, Xabi’s smiling harder than he’d anticipated for his first day at a new school.

\--

They have a pop quiz the next day. Steven’s surprised- and fears for Xabi, to be honest, because the poor guy only just got here and he’s already being evaluated on something he might not even know.

Steven looks to his left discreetly through 45 minutes, searching for some sign of distress and a call for help but Xabi’s calm and focused and Steven shrugs, scribbles down what’s left of his answer and hands in the sheet.

The teacher doesn’t even bother commenting on how Steven was the first because in a class of 25 it’s slightly sad the only person with an A average on Maths is Steven.

Two days later, they get the quiz back.

Xabi scores a 50 out of a 50.

Steven’s left to stare at his 49 with slight disappointment (and, irony).

The teacher smiles at Xabi fondly and Xabi looks over at Steven and smirks.

Steven remembers his question from a few days back, _is he any good_ , thinks, ok. Game on.

\--

“Real Madrid is way better than Liverpool Stevie,”

Steven feels something twist inside him at the _Stevie_ , “May be wise to shut it now, mate.”

“What?” Xabi laughs on the other end of the line. “Can’t handle the truth?”

“Just shut up, ok? Liverpool is the best team you’ll ever know.”

There’s silence and then a snort, and Steven fights to repress a smile of his own. “Right. Yes, of course.”

“I could sense your sarcasm a thousand miles away.”

“I can get better at lying if you want,” Xabi says, the edges of his voice polished into ringing laughter and smooth joy and Steven feels his heart beat faster as he hears it. “They’d still suck though.”

“You know, I liked you better when you were quiet. And apologizing.”

“Sorry for being smart.”

“Asshole,” Steven mutters into the phone and that makes Xabi laugh harder, and there’s a moment where Steven just listens to his laugh before snapping out of it. “Hey, by the way, you know exercise number 85 we got for homework?”

There’s a silence. Then, “Oh, yeah, what about it?”

“How did you find the variable in that?”

He can almost _hear_ the shit-eating grin over the line. “Is the best student in class asking me for help?”

“Yeah ok I knew this was a mistake.”

None of them say anything for a while. “What.”

“What.”

“I could practically see you rolling your eyes.”

“That’s the problem with phones Steven- you’re never sure what the other person is doing.”

“God just shut up and tell me how you did it.”

“I’m rolling my eyes again in case you didn’t know.”

Steven groans. “Nevermind- I’ll ask the teacher tomorrow.”

He hangs up before Xabi can answer and worries he’ll be upset for the rest of the day.

At night, he gets a message with a detailed explanation on how to get the variable on exercise 85. He sends out a quick thank you and goes to bed with a smile.

\--

The air shifts for Xabi then.

It’s been a week since he got in the school and he’s never felt particularly uncomfortable until right this second, with Anne from his math class shooting him flirty eyes and inviting him to a ‘special’ party at her place. Xabi clears his throat, thinks about saying no- but then he thinks he misses parties and it’s been a long time since he’s been in one and hell, Stevie’ll probably be there too so he’ll always have someone to talk to at least.

He nods unsurely, tries to ease a smile in and Anne gives a too-loud shriek and hugs him and Xabi is _really_ uncomfortable now. The situation only gets worse when Stevie comes into view and raises an eyebrow comically, confused and slightly worried for Anne’s mental sanity.

Xabi rolls his eyes and pushes her away gently, biding his goodbyes before joining Steven as they walk to maths; they’ll have to walk to the opposite side of the school so it gives Steven time to get the confused look soothed down.

“So what was that about?” he asks, forcing a casual tone as he rummages inside his bag to check if he has all the books he needs.

Xabi purses his lips, scratches the back of his head. “There’s a party at Anne’s tonight... are you going?”

Steven frowns, then opens his mouth like he just remembered something and snaps it back shut. “Oh. That. Uhm, yeah, I guess. Did she invite you too?”

“Yeah. I kinda miss it, you know. Parties. Socializing.”

“You talk like you’ve been out of school for years.” Steven mutters, blowing a heavy puff of air. He’s about to turn to Xabi and lead them to his locker so he can get the apparently missing textbooks when he notices the distant look on Xabi’s face, the melting sadness that suddenly strikes his eyes.

“Hey, you ok?” Steven frowns more deeply now, and he doesn’t even pay attention as people bump into them, in a rush to get to classes. “Oi, Xabi? What’s wrong?”

His stance is rigid but he shakes it off, laughs brokenly in an attempt to brush it aside. “Nothing, it’s nothing. Do you have everything you need or-“

“Xabi,” Stevie says seriously, and meets his eyes. “What did I say?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

“Well I do worry,” it slips out and Stevie can’t find it in him to care.

Xabi sighs, looks at Steven and his eyes are hard again- the delicate vulnerability he’d found there seconds ago swiped clean, replaced by what now looked an awful lot like a mask, a resemblance to a past. “Don’t.”

Xabi walks forward and doesn’t look back again and Steven stands there for a few more seconds, heading in the opposite direction to get to his locker.

When he gets to Maths, two minutes late, the teacher forgives him and tells him to sit, and he almost wishes she hadn’t.

The class room seems small, and tight, and equations have never seemed harder to solve.

\--

This is the way it could have gone:

Xabi tells Steven he didn’t go to school for a whole year, Steven asks why and Xabi explains it to him. Xabi gives all the answers Steven wants and saves him four days of writhing uncomfortably during insomnias as Xabi’s face pops up in his mind, saves him four days of blaming himself. Xabi saves Steven.

This is also the way it didn’t go.

\--

It’s warm and uncharacteristically sunny for England, and Steven shows up at his house unannounced.

They go for a kick-about at the nearest park, and Joe and Terry are both there already, shooting the ball into the nearest goal and raising a fist in achievement as it lands perfectly in between the posts.

Steven introduces Xabi to them both, talks a bit too much about him and Terry suppresses a snort. In the meanwhile Rooney gets there and he’s all friendly and chubby and sweaty and they all guess he walked there from his house (a huge mansion that’s a good four kilometers from there).

“Rooney,” he shakes Xabi’s hand; and Steven smirks as Xabi shakes his back and he can recognize the look in Rooney’s eyes- he’s assessing him, and Xabi hasn’t given him anything to pick at yet.

“You wanna play?” Terry asks, with a _might as well_ tone to his voice, and Steven glances at Xabi from the corner of his eye.

Xabi smiles- Steven thinks that smile is finding light and darkness tucked into their corner, lacing together as the waves crashing to shore. “Yeah.”

And for the next half hour the only thing on their minds is- _shit, he’s good._

Steven walks around like a proud father for the rest of the day.

“Where did you learn to play?” he asks a few hours later, when they’re longing in Steven’s backyard for the afternoon.

“Spain,” Xabi says, passing the ball over to him.

Steven traps it under his foot. “Spain?” he shrieks. “You’ve been to Spain?”

The corner of Xabi’s mouth tilts up in a secret, and Steven thinks it’s a buried one and has the horrible feeling he’ll never be able to dig it up a hundred feet off the ground. “I was born there.”

“How come I never knew that?”

“You never asked.”

There’s no accusation, and yet Steven feels a pang of guilt (a guilt that’s been haunting him recently) at that. He asks, “How did your english get so good then?” and passes the ball over to him, watching as he receives and controls it beautifully.

And Xabi’s smile opens up wide, and he’s grinning and nearly laughing in a brutal change, and Steven can’t stop thinking the smile almost rips the heavy cloud of secrecy hovering over him, but then the thought hits him- _maybe it’s part of it_ \- because he can’t seem to tell whether or not that smile is breaking him. “I’m a fast learner.”

Despite his current situation, Steven blushes, struggles with the ball as Xabi throws it back to him, because suddenly all the things he wants to teach Xabi cross his mind and they’re in no hurry to leave.

It’s not like Xabi needs football lessons, though.

A beat.

_(It’s not like he was thinking about football lessons, though)_

\--

There’s this one time when Ms. Aaron decides to put them in separate desks for the class.

Xabi calls the teacher over, explains he’s struggling with exercise number 78 c), which Steven has worked out in under two minutes.

He pulls out his phone discreetly, types a quick _tsk tsk_ , stucks it back in his pocket.

He watches as Xabi takes out his phone, unlocks it and looks at the message. He presses his lips into a thin line, puts the phone back in his bag and keeps writing on his sheet.

Half-way through the class a piece of paper hits Stevie square in the face and when he looks at Xabi he’s trying his best not to laugh, the bastard, and Stevie can only look on furiously, and, admittedly, a little amusingly.

He unfolds the crumpled piece of paper and reads:

_I got 6 more points than you in the last evaluation_

_So shut up_

Steven snorts and puts the piece of paper in his pocket. When he gets home and changes into shorts, the paper falls off and as Steven remembers what it is, he laughs, shaking his head at the absurdity of the whole thing.

\--

He’s studying for the Chemistry exam he has on Tuesday when his ex calls him.

“Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Tania.”

“I can see that.” His tone is clipped.

There’s a silence. “Is this a bad time?”

Steven sighs, rolls his eyes as he tries to remain calm. “Do you care?”

“Steven-“

“What do you want?”

“I already said I was sorry.”

“And I forgave you.”

“So what’s with the cold shoulder?”

The tip of his pencil breaks, and he slackens his hold on it. “I said forgive. Not forget.”

He hears a rustling on the other end of the line, and Tania huffs, and Steven can almost imagine her running her hand through her long blond hair, leaving it ruffled and messy and absolutely perfect (he’d found it perfect, at least, in the past). “I need Xabi’s number.”

Steven freezes; his heart skips a bit; he doesn’t breathe. “Why?”

“It’s for one of my friends. She has a... I don’t know, she said she had thing for him but it looks like it’s more than that and I thought I would ask you-“

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Steven repeats, shakes his head, tries to slow down his racing mind. “She’s one of your friends, right? Chances are she’s also a cheating bitch, so no way in hell I’m giving you his number.”

He feels a heavy weight settle itself on his shoulders, feels something pressing into the back of his head, feels the urge to grunt and forget about this (once and for all, he’d say, if he were a walking cliché).

“Ok.” (Defeated, guilty, quiet)

“Bye Tania.”

“Goodbye.”

.

_Beep, beep._

\--

A few weeks later, they’re on Xabi’s bed. It’s a Sunday and they don’t have work to do and it’s also the first time Steven’s been inside Xabi’s house.

They play video games all afternoon because it’s fun and they miss it.

(Steven notes idly, _the house smells like smoke_ )

Xabi beats him the first too times and Steven wins the next three, which leaves Xabi grumpy as he asks him if he wants something to eat.

Xabi comes back to the bedroom with two bags of chips and two cokes, muttering a “You’re eating away my pantry,” but Steven highly doubts that.

(In the meanwhile, he makes another mental note: _He thinks he saw a used cigarette on the far corner of the kitchen isle. He can’t be sure_ )

“You have a full stock, it’s like you’re getting ready for the apocalypse so why the fuck are you complaining?” Steven stuffs his mouth full of chips and chews annoyingly loud, knowing Xabi will get angry and push him off the bed, which will only lead to Steven rolling on the floor laughing.

“Hey, who’s to say we aren’t getting attacked by zombies soon?”

Steven stops chewing, raises an eyebrow like he’s crazy. “You did not just say that.”

Xabi grins. “Feels good to be stupid sometimes, you know? You should try it.” And then there’s a snort. “Oh, wait.”

It’s Steven who ends up pushing Xabi off the bed, but Xabi’s quick to react and grabs Steven’s hand and pulls him down as well, and Steven lands on top of Xabi, Xabi’s chest rising and falling rapidly, rumbling with laughter, and Steven looks down at him menacingly, gives him a slap on the back of the head and-

And as he tries to get up, he realizes Xabi’s leg is holding one of his down and he’s still laughing incredibly loud on the floor and Steven thinks he’s never seen him happier. “Asshole.”

Xabi laughs harder, wheezes and when it dies down, he stares into Steven’s eyes and reaches up and- and his lips are soft and moist and he can still feel the laughter ringing in his ears as he presses himself harder against Xabi.

(Steven makes a final mental note: Xabi tastes like the smoke he’d inhaled as he stepped foot into the house.)

\--

Everything seems small the next day. Small, and tight, and crowded, and Steven doesn’t know if he’s supposed to act as casual as he did when he left Xabi’s house the day before.

He breathes deeply, opens his notebook and spreads it out on the desk, preparing to write the summary as soon as the teacher walks in. The room is filled with a loud kind of silence, and Steven can’t even hear the familiar background noise from down the hall.

The only thing he realizes is: Xabi isn’t there yet (and he usually is, he’s always incredibly early and Steven loves that about- likes _, likes_ that about him), and it’s quiet.

And then it’s not, then the teacher walks in followed by 20 other students and Steven scans them quickly, waiting for trained eyes to meet familiar ones- but they don’t.

Steven spends the rest of the class trying to convince himself Xabi didn’t miss school because he was embarrassed about what had happened. Because that’s stupid, and childish, and nothing that would come from that brilliant brain Xabi has.

He packs up his things quickly when the bell rings, doesn’t linger to discuss the teaching methods or the exercises solved in the class, and flees the room with his phone in hand.

He thinks it’s maybe the longest ten _beep_ s he’s ever experienced.

And the most horrible voice-mail-computerized-recording he’s ever heard.

\--

“I was sick.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should I?”

 _Yes, Steven, why should he?_ “I just mean, I could have told the teacher-“

“No need, my father talked to him.”

There’s a silence. “Ok.”

“Any homework?”

“Page 134, ex 5, 6 and 7.”

“Right, thanks.”

“Xabi?”

“Yeah?”

Steven lingers, grasps onto words still struggling to break free. He stamps them down. “Nothing. Feel better.”

There’s a moment, where a beat of silence is made of _I’m sorry_ , and, _I’m just tired, and you don’t know why, but I can’t tell you,_ and then, “Thanks. Bye.”

.

_Beep, beep._

They both go to bed early that night.

\--

Steven sees him talking to Terry the next day. He looks relaxed, amused and he’s laughing, and then he notices Steven and the smile disappears slowly. He excuses himself, makes his way to Steven, and the first words out of his mouth are “I’m sorry”.

Steven nods. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not. I was in a crappy mood and I took it out on you.” He purses his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.”

There’s a blank, heavy second, where you could cut the tension in the air with a butter knife, and then Xabi’s pulling Steven with him through a hallway, and then another one, and they end up near the arts section. It’s deserted on Tuesday mornings.

“I just want you to know,” Xabi’s eyes are set on him, swimming in deep red waters, scarlet thoughts latching on to the depths Steven wishes he could get access to. “I don’t regret it.”

Steven feels a pinching urge to bite back, “Could have fooled me.”

Xabi looks at him for a second, sighs, then taps his foot against Steven’s and forces him back until he hits the wall, and then Xabi’s lips are on his again- gentle, on a mission, proving something Steven hadn’t known he was hoping to be proven.

“Not regretting it,” Xabi mutters against his lips and Steven thinks, _me neither_ , and smiles with an easiness he hasn’t felt in days.

But then he remembers-

He remembers, and can’t help but ask-

“Do you smoke?” Steven blurts out, and it’s like Xabi’s been electrocuted because he pushes back immediately, distancing himself from Steven with a confused look in his eyes.

“What?”

Steven licks his lips, closes his eyes and presses his palms against them. _Cigarette._

Steven waits for Xabi to answer, opens his eyes, blinks to get rid of the blue spots and the worry melting with them.

Xabi doesn’t answer.

The bell rings.

Xabi still doesn’t answer.

“Chemistry,” Xabi mumbles, and turns to walk out the back door.

Stevie doesn’t move. He stays there for the next hour because he doesn’t have class, and he slides down the wall and licks his lips repeatedly, trying to get rid of the taste.

_Of Xabi’s taste._

\--

A week goes by.

Xabi doesn’t call him.

Steven doesn’t show up unannounced.

Maths passes by in silenced resolution.

When they get their worksheet back, Steven glances to see Xabi got a 72 out of 100.

For some reason, he blames himself.

\--

Then one day, Steven’s lying on his bed with textbooks scattered on the floor, a separate sheet of paper staring at him and he stares back, picks it up, grabs a pen, writes,

_I miss you._

He wants to make some big declaration but words are running from him and he’s suddenly left speechless, roaming through old files in search for something he doesn’t quite understand.

He crumples the piece of paper to a ball and throws it as hard as he can at the bin under his desk.

By the end of the week, there are five more _I miss you_ s written on crumpled sheets, lying under the desk in an attempt to diminish their meaning.

It’s a failed attempt.

\--

Xabi toys with the phone in his hand, and eventually buttons get pressed, a familiar ring fills his ears, and then he feels a pang in his chest, “Hello?”

He wonders what he should say. He probably should have wondered this before, because right now all he can hear is silence and he doesn’t like silence, not anymore. And so he says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“I’m sorry.”

And he feels like he’s apologizing way too much these days but then he thinks, _I can only blame myself_.

“I’m...” he closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face, lies with his back propped up on the headboard. “We moved to England five years ago. We were here for three years and then my mom got sick- I just- it was cancer and it was a really rough year for us and... I didn’t go to school that year, had to be homeschooled and take care of my mom at the same time because well, someone had to support the family and my dad was gone half of the day-“

The silence on the other end of the line scares him, reaches him loud and clear and petrifying. “We thought she was fine after 10 months and then it came back and she died.” He sets his jaw and shakes his head and wills his throat to untighten. “And I’m not saying all the choices I made after that were good choices, but if there’s one of them I don’t regret is being your friend and if you don’t want me anymore because I smoke a cigarette every other day or because I’m seriously fucked up then I can’t blame you. But I’ll always miss you so-“

“Would you please shut up and open the _fucking_ door?”

\--

“I’m throwing that away.” Steven warns, looking at the pack of cigarettes on Xabi’s nightstand.

Xabi nods, shuffles closer to him and leans his forehead against Steven’s. “Ok.”

“And you’re not allowed to keep secrets from me. Clear?”

Xabi smirks, almost laughs but doesn’t because he feels like that would ruin the moment. “Whatever you say.”

Steven looks at him, and for a second they’re having a conversation in a parallel world- thousands of miles away- something like _I missed you_ and _I love you_ and _I’m not saying it now but maybe, later?_ and smiles and feather light touches and-

And in their world, Steven pokes Xabi in the shoulder, asks how much he got in Physics.

“94.”

Steven grins. “95.”

Xabi squints at him, the corners of his mouth twitching up in hidden amusement, and he breathes a contented sigh. “I’ll get you next time.”

_I love you, and I’ll tell you time and time again, but just not now, because I have a feeling we’ll have time for that. I’ll still love you tonight._


End file.
